


all this love (is suffocating)

by renjunethereal



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Blood, Cheesy, Crushes, Fluff and Angst, Hanahaki Disease, Idiots in Love, M/M, Music, Not Beta Read, Romance, but whats new, jaemin is a menace, jeno is lovestruck and dumb, kind of a mess, renjun pretty, so that tells you a lot already
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 12:29:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21302090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renjunethereal/pseuds/renjunethereal
Summary: Jeno doesn't think his crush on Renjun is a problem until he starts throwing up daffodils.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Lee Jeno
Comments: 17
Kudos: 190





	all this love (is suffocating)

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who spent all their time on this instead of their wips with actual deadlines!!! This was super fun to make though even though its a mess, so I hope you enjoy reading (?)
> 
> Also full disclosure I don't know anything about music programs in university or if their performance etiquette is different so sorry for any inaccuracies, my experience is limited to years of high school band and 8 years of piano.
> 
> Title taken from Crush Culture by Conan Gray, highly recommend listening to it while reading
> 
> One more thing (and this one's important)!!! There's going to be some reference to blood and gagging and vomiting and if you don't like any of those terms, turn back now!

It’s pathetic, really.

Everyday, Jeno will walk into the band room fifteen minutes before practice starts, and everyday he’ll see Renjun tuning his clarinet from where he sits several rows down, and promptly stop breathing. Every. Single. Time.

Maybe it’s how beautiful he looks without even trying. Maybe it’s the way he giggles at the jokes Jeno whispers under his breath, making his heart feel full. Maybe it’s all in Jeno’s dreamy, rose-coloured head, filling in the blanks and softening the edges. 

One thing’s for sure though: Jeno has a crush on Renjun. It’s an ugly, grotesque monster of a crush, capable of devouring Jeno’s entire being if it wants to, but it’s a crush nonetheless.

Renjun stops playing to wave at him, eyes curving up into half moons, and Jeno lets himself wave back before retreating behind the bass drum so he can hide the way his face flames. After checking that Renjun isn’t looking at him (he isn’t), he smacks his own forehead, cringing at himself.

They’ve had classes together for two years, _ two whole years _ (Jeno a percussion major, Renjun in voice), yet Jeno is physically unable to talk to Renjun for more than ten minutes in fear of his heart literally beating out of his chest. Each time they talk, the tempo of Jeno’s heart will get increasingly faster and faster until he has to break the conversation off with an awkward laugh and walk away before he does something stupid, like spontaneously combust—or even worse—confess.

Sometimes he wonders if Renjun can tell just how stupid Jeno is around him, if he notices the way his cheeks are always a little pink when he’s near, the way Jeno looks at him like he’s the only person in the room.

Of course, that’s impossible. Renjun is his classmate, nothing more, nothing less. And that’s all they’ll ever be to each other.

Jeno swallows thickly as he gets his mallets out, throat suddenly feeling dry. He doesn’t have any time to dwell on it though, more students filing in as the clock hand nears eight am. It’s probably nothing.

It’s not until after class, when Jeno’s packing up, that he feels it again. Renjun walks towards the back row, and Jeno’s on the cusp of his fight or flight response until he realizes that Renjun’s making a beeline not towards him, but to a trumpet that sits in front of him. Jeno vaguely recognizes him as Lee Donghyuck, another vocal major. He watches the way Donghyuck throws a casual arm around Renjun’s shoulders, the way Renjun leans into his touch, the way they laugh together, Renjun’s melodic voice standing out like a beacon in a storm. 

Jeno exhales shakily, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. He clutches his music tighter, trying to control the undeniable envy that coils around his heart in a vice grip. Deep breath in, deep breath out This is fine. He’s fine.

...

The spring recital is coming up, and Jeno, despite deciding that he wasn’t going to perform this time, still gets bombarded with accompanist requests like every other percussion major. Still, there’s only one he cares about.

Renjun approaches him after music theory with no warning, Jeno practically jumping out of his skin when he sees Renjun sitting next to him.

“Hey!” Renjun greets, and Jeno just blinks dumbly. “Um, I was wondering if you wanted to be my accompanist for the recital? You can say no, of course, I wouldn’t want to force you if you’re busy—”

“No!” Jeno shouts, far too loudly. He clears his throat. “No, I’m not busy at all. I’d love to accompany you...in piano! Just piano.” He ends his sentence with an awkward breath of a laugh, the back of his neck heating up at a worrying pace.

“Cool! Can we exchange numbers so we can figure out a practice time?” Jeno’s hands scramble to find his phone, watching in awe as Renjun types his contact in like it’s the most nonchalant thing in the world and like he isn’t turning Jeno’s world upside down. Renjun smiles at him as he waves goodbye, adorable and dangerous and ethereal all at the same time, and Jeno just barely manages to wave back without short circuiting. 

He stares at Renjun’s contact when he gets home, stares at the little heart emoji next to it, barely blinking, replaying the interaction over and over in his head before rolling over to scream into his pillow.

“What is it? Who died?” Jaemin, his roommate, exclaims as he bursts into the room.

“Me.” Jeno whines, voice muffled into the fabric. He doesn’t bother explaining further, and Jaemin doesn’t look like he wants to know anyways.

...

Their first practice together is a mess. Jeno, despite taking the liberty to obsessively practice the accompaniment beforehand, stumbles and freezes up the second Renjun so much as looks at him. He feels like he’s in fourth grade again, at his first piano performance, smaller, shier, and utterly petrified. 

“Agh, sorry!” Jeno cringes as his fingers stumble over the arpeggios, tense as a bowstring. 

“No, no, it’s fine. Are you cold? Is that why?” Renjun asks, and Jeno wants to _ die _ at how nice and understanding he is. Jeno's flushed from his neck to his hairline, sweat perspiring on the back of his neck, very much the opposite of cold.

“Yeah. Just need to get the feeling back in my hands, I guess.” He says, entirely too much feeling running through him.

After that one practice, everything goes...surprisingly smooth. Strangely, miraculously, Jeno can feel himself becoming less nervous around Renjun. It takes a lot of practice, some very embarrassing incidents (Jeno has somehow managed to play the piece in a different key without noticing for sixteen bars, solely focused on Renjun’s voice), but slowly his shoulders relax, his confidence increases, his heartbeat stabilizes to an only slightly worrying allegro rather than a wild vivace.

He thinks, even beyond the rose coloured clouds shrouding over his judgement, that Renjun is becoming more comfortable around him too. He makes more jokes, seems looser, more familiar. Renjun, slowly but surely, starts feeling less like a foolish dream that Jeno’s clinging onto and more like a possibility, a reality. 

They hang out outside of practices too, now. First for productive reasons, study sessions for a music history test coming up, but then Jeno shyly suggests getting bubble tea later and it spirals from there, Renjun inviting him to watch a Chinese movie at his dorm days later, with subtitles, of course. 

The movie is almost excessively sad, with Jeno moved to tears even with the shoddy translation because _ the dad deserved to live, goddammit, he had a daughter! _ He thinks he can feel Renjun’s gaze on him while he sobs, and is grateful when he doesn’t say anything and just hands him a tissue. He’s extra grateful that the incident doesn’t stop Renjun from inviting him over again, this time a significantly less sad movie (Jeno still tears up, but only a little bit).

Jeno doesn’t dare ask if Renjun considers these dates, choosing instead to bask in Renjun’s presence. Besides, this is what friends do—hang out. As friends.

Renjun’s also become a lot more touchy around Jeno. Like, a surprising amount.

“You know you kinda look like a samoyed when you smile? It’s cute.” Renjun comments one day. Jeno blinks, only managing a breathy laugh when it finally sinks in and his cheeks heat up.

“Heh, do I?” Jeno asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, sometimes I just wanna, like—” Jeno gets no warning when Renjun reaches up and ruffles Jeno’s hair, like...a dog. Jeno’s stuck between being confused and trying not to die, especially when he notices that Renjun is also a little pink in the face.

“Anyways,” Renjun says, clearing his throat. “Can we start from bar 49?”

Renjun sings like a meteor shower. Beautiful, celestial, and undeniably powerful. The piece he chose is in Chinese, a language unfamiliar to Jeno, but from the way Renjun sings like every note is tearing into him, so beautiful and so tragic, he thinks he can understand it.

It’s this moment, when Renjun sings the song like it’s his own, face scrunched up in emotion, that Jeno gets reminded that he’s so very, dangerously, in love.

...

He should’ve saw this coming, really.

He’s at some house party. Jaemin dragged him, nagging about how Jeno never goes out anymore and that if he stays in his room for one more Friday night that he’ll die from the lack of social interaction.

(“I literally talk to people everyday.” Jeno grumbles, but doesn’t protest as Jaemin digging through his closet and tossing different pairs of pants for him to try on. One of them has a scandalous slit right under the back pocket, and he squints, not remembering ever buying them.

“Yeah, about _ school _. When’s the last time you had a conversation with someone that wasn’t about Chopin?” Jaemin, despite being in music performance like Jeno, makes it a point to pronounce Chopin like “choppin’” just to annoy people. Jeno does a full body cringe every time, without fail.

“It’s pronounced Shoh-pan. _ Shoh. Pan. _” Jeno corrects.

“See? You’re still doing it!”)

Despite going through all this trouble, Jeno still manages to lose him an impressive fifteen minutes after arrival, Jaemin saying he’s going to get a drink and never coming back. Jeno, not a party person in the first place and terrified at the prospect of talking to people without the most talkative person at his side as a safeguard, defaults into standing against the wall, trying not to draw attention to himself.

Surprisingly, though, he does talk to some people.

There’s Zhong Chenle, the freshman that somehow, despite being talented in multiple instruments, managed to convince the band director to let him play cowbell and only cowbell in jazz band. They bond over TwoSet Violin for a bit before Chenle gets whisked away by his boyfriend, Jisung, to god-knows-where. Freshmen move fast.

He has a brief run-in with a very drunk Ten trying to convince him to dance to some Justin Timberlake song and only barely manages to escape when Ten loses his train of thought amidst rambling and stares off into space.

Weirdly, awkwardly, Donghyuck also approaches him to ask him if he’s seen Renjun. Jeno, having no idea he would even be here, shakes his head, and Donghyuck huffs. 

“Hey...you’re friends with that Jaemin guy right?” Donghyuck asks suddenly.

“Uh, yeah. Since fourth grade.” He’s not sure why he has a habit of oversharing when he obviously doesn’t need to, but he does.

“Cool, cool. So you’re not, like, dating him, right?” Oh. _ Oh _. So that’s what this is about.

“Nope. He’s all yours.” For the smallest, briefest fraction of a second, Donghyuck actually looked flustered. Jeno swears he saw a bit of redness peeking through the other’s foundation.

“Cool. See ya later, Jeno.” Donghyuck says, already walking away. Jeno manages a wave that’s only slightly awkward in return.

That’s the last thing Jeno remembers before he zeroes in on Renjun, and suddenly nothing else matters, nothing except the way he positively _ glows _under the too-yellow lights of the living room, the way he sways his hips to the beat of the music, head thrown back and smile radiant.

Foolishly, Jeno thinks about walking over, about asking him to dance before he misses his chance, and foolishly, he forgets he never had one in the first place.

Jeno watches as a boy comes up from behind and wraps his arm around Renjun’s waist, as easy as breathing. The boy is tall, classically handsome. They look good together. 

The boy starts leaning in closer, and that’s when Jeno decides that he has to go, has to leave before his heart breaks into two. 

The first place he runs to is not home, but the first practice room he can find.

Here’s the thing about Jeno: in most senses of the term, he’s a little closed off. He doesn’t like to cry in front of others (despite that one stint at Renjun’s dorm), rarely ever lets people know what he’s thinking without filtering it enough to be inconspicuous. But there is one place where Jeno isn’t afraid of his own thoughts, afraid of what happens when he dares reveal what’s going on inside his head. Here, among the black and white keys, he can’t hide anything, the piano displaying the emotions he worked so hard to hide with every chord, every flick of his wrist.

He loses himself in it, rocks his body down along with the accented chords, feels the melody in his very bones. Clumsily, like an amateur, he unknowingly speeds up the tempo until it matches the heartbeat throbbing in his ears, touch getting harsher as he thinks about Renjun. Beautiful, intelligent, unattainable Renjun that probably never thought of him as anything more than just a friend. This whole time he’s been chasing after the sun, running and running, never close enough to touch but close enough to get burned.

Mezzo piano. Crescendo. Forte. Jeno’s wrists are starting to hurt.

_ He doesn’t even know who you are. _

He missed the ritenuto. He keeps going. 

_ You think he’ll choose you? Over everyone else? _

Trill. Tie. The note hangs in the air, uneasy, overwrought. Jeno can’t breathe. 

_ He’ll never love you. _

Jeno ends the piece with a harsh, ugly chord. His mouth hangs open as he gasps desperately for air, chest heaving. In front of him, daffodils scatter across the keys, onto the floor.  


“Hanahaki disease?” Jaemin says as he munches on a fry. “Dunno, isn’t that fake or something? I heard it happens when people are in love with someone who doesn’t love them back. Why? you got a crush?” His eyebrows waggle, and Jeno smiles, only slightly tinged in sadness.

“Nah, just wondering.”

...

Jeno misses three practice sessions with Renjun the next few weeks, afraid that even looking at him will trigger another bout of flowers spewing out of him. He makes excuses, says he’s sick, that he has to help out with something that day, he’s sorry. 

He feels bad when Renjun texts him reassurances, sends him get well soon messages paired with little heart emojis. Feels even worse when the days count down until the spring recital is a mere five days away and he and Renjun haven’t practiced together in weeks.

At one point Jeno nearly drowns in his own guilt and asks Renjun if they can practice this afternoon. He’s convinced himself that this is all in his head, and as long as he doesn’t think about it, he'll be fine. This is fine.

He thinks it’s not so fine when Renjun greets him with a small smile, asks him how he’s feeling and if he’s sure he still wants to perform with him. He can already feel his chest constricting, breath shortening.

“I’ll be fine,” Jeno lies. “It’s too late to find another accompanist anyways, isn’t it?”

Renjun bites at his lip nervously. “Yeah, but…” He lets out a sigh, “okay, but let me know if you want to drop out, okay? I’ll manage.”

Jeno fights through each run through of the song with every carefully timed swallow, every heave disguised as phrasing, every suppressed gag. He plays like a robot—detached, frigid, emotionless, purely focused on making it through the practice. There’s a point where Renjun turns around to fetch his water bottle from his backpack, and Jeno takes the opportunity to spew out the now familiar yellow petals itching at his throat and into his own backpack, feigning nonchalance when Renjun faces him again.

“Can we start it again from the last page? I think that’s my problem area.” Jeno wants to say that Renjun has no problem areas, because he really doesn’t, but instead he just nods, afraid of his own mouth. Especially like this, with Renjun so gorgeous and so close yet so, so out of reach. Jeno smiles sadly as Renjun faces away from him again. He’s back at square one, all over again.

  
...

It’s performance day. 

Jeno feels like throwing up again, but whether it’s from the flowers or his own nerves, he’s not sure. He’s checked if he had his sheet music at least six times, checked if he knew the fingerings by heart and plays it on his thighs as he waits for their turn.

Renjun’s standing some ways away from him, doing vocal warm ups with Donghyuck. He looks especially devastating in a tailored blazer, hair carefully tousled.

“Hey, are you feeling okay?” Renjun asks when he notices Jeno’s gaze on him, and Jeno just smiles, nods like everything is okay even when its not. He’s already fucked a lot of things up—his lungs, his feelings, but he can’t fuck this up. He won’t, for Renjun. 

Only half an hour goes by, but to Jeno it feels like barely five minutes pass before it’s their turn.

The silence is deafening as Jeno sits down onto the piano bench, practically vibrating in his anxiety. Renjun looks over at him, an inquiring look on his face, and Jeno tosses him his most reassuring smile. Renjun sends one back at him, and somehow, despite the uneasiness still swirling in his stomach, his chest, Jeno feels relaxed.

Jeno breathes in, the only audible sound in an otherwise dead silent concert hall, before he starts. Notes flow out like water as he plays the beginning melody, and Renjun breathes in, Jeno’s heart rate spiking when he croons out the first phrase.

The performance goes perfectly. Renjun seems different today, less guarded, less perfect, but so incredibly gorgeous in his poignancy. Jeno can't see his face from here, but he knows for a fact that Renjun's eyes are especially sparkly under the stage lights, dark pools of constellations and stardust. That fact alone makes Jeno feel dizzy.

There’s a moment of rest when he and Renjun don’t make a sound, let the suspense hang in the air, let the audience sit on the corner of their seats before Renjun lets the final phrase fall, like the ending drops of a rainstorm, Jeno accompanying him with a touch just as delicate even as his body starts screaming for him to _let go, let go, let go._

He almost lasts through all of it, lets the ending note prolong and prolong before the screaming becomes too much, too violent, and Jeno has to run off stage while Renjun bows. A single, bloody daffodil petal escapes, and Jeno misses how Renjun’s eyes widen in understanding.

Jeno just barely makes it to the men’s washroom before his jaw falls and he lets it all out, the flowers scratching and itching and clawing their way out of Jeno’s throat, hostile in their journey as they fall to the white tiles of the bathroom floor.

When it’s all over and Jeno has nothing more to give except shuddering heaves of breath, he lets out one, broken, pitiful sob, his entire being trembling.

The door opens, and Jeno’s horrified to find Renjun staring down at him, eyes wide and worried. He doesn’t get to say anything, though, letting out a clipped gag as his breathing constricts yet again, and this is _ it _, this is how he’s going to die. On the bathroom floor, the object of his affections staring down at him as his head pounds from the lack of oxygen.

“Jeno! Oh my god,” Renjun rushes out as he closes the door behind him. Without a second thought, he drops down on his knees, where Jeno’s shaking, and takes him into his arms.

“Please, please, stay with me,” Renjun begs, voice soft. He reaches from Jeno’s jaw with gentle hands, makes Jeno look at him. There’s blood dripping from his chin, tear streaks on a pale, sickly face, yet Renjun looks at him like he’s meant to be admired, to be _ loved _. He lets out a dejected whisper of a laugh, amazed that even right now he’s still wishing for something that will never exist. He opens his mouth, tries to croak out something, maybe a confession, maybe an apology because he's really _so, so sorry_ that he ruined everything, but nothing comes out.

“Shhh, it’s okay, I’m here now.” Renjun whispers, and Jeno gets no warning when he kisses him. It takes a moment for it to sink in, for Jeno to realize that no, this isn’t another cruel, cruel dream, and that Renjun’s lips really are that soft, ironically, like a flower petal.

Jeno breathes in sharply through his nose, his chest free and relaxed and open as he reciprocates the kiss, tries to express everything he’s ever felt about Renjun as he grips his hair to pull him closer. 

This is the most liberated Jeno’s felt in _ months _ , breathing smooth and rhythmic and _ easy _, a song Jeno’s missed feeling, and his heart soars when Renjun rubs soothing circles on Jeno’s cheek with his thumb.

They separate with a barely audible pop, lips red and cheeks flushed, the only thing between them being silence. 

“I think I love you.” Jeno’s eyes widen, because that didn’t come out of his mouth, but Renjun’s. “No, no I’m _ sure _ I love you.” Renjun amends, and Jeno’s eyes widen further.

“I love the way you smile and the way you laugh, and how you’re so humble and how you try so hard to make other people happy because you’re so damn _ kind _. I love the way you look at me, and I’m so, so sorry that I didn’t say anything sooner because I was scared that I’d be wrong and I would ruin everything,” Renjun rambles on as Jeno’s brain short-circuits, sparks flying and all. 

“You—you noticed me? You were looking at me?” Jeno asks, voice quiet and disbelieving.

“Jeno,” Renjun sighs out. “I’ve always been looking at you.” 

Jeno whispers his own confession against Renjun’s lips before kissing him. It’s sloppy because they’re both smiling too hard so their teeth knock together once or twice, and Jeno can still taste his own blood on his tongue, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

...

Renjun rushes him to the hospital once their minds have cleared and the moment is over, and Jeno’s a little sad that they can’t make out for longer but mostly endeared. 

Thankfully, the doctor said he’s going to be fine, he just needs to take some meds and pills to help deal with the blood loss and speed up the healing process.

Jeno leaves the hospital with his face slightly flushed and hand just barely grazing against Renjun’s, somehow still shy even after they both confessed their undying love for each other. The flush only grows when Renjun gets fed up and intertwines their fingers together, Jeno finding a very interesting building in the distance to look at when he feels Renjun’s teasing gaze on him.

Years from now, when they’re just on the cusp of graduating, Jeno will laugh at his own stupidity, and act extra touchy with Renjun to make up for it.

There was a time when being around Renjun would make Jeno’s chest constrict, make his heart race and his breathing irregular. Now, his heart still races, still gets breathless, but he’s comfortable, his feelings cradling his heart gently instead of squeezing it tight. Now, being with him is as easy as breathing.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh in case it wasn't clear, Jeno plays the timpani in concert band but of course also plays piano and other percussion instruments. Renjun does classical voice performance but has a soft spot for ballads and also plays clarinet, and Jaemin plays saxophone because...of course he does. Hyuck is in voice but also does trumpet because it felt right okay
> 
> (P.S maybe if I get really experimental I'll make a Nahyuck sequel but idk)
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/yeah_uh_no)
> 
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/yeah_uh_no)
> 
> come talk to me about stuff!


End file.
